


Performance Review

by sudo_InkR4VEN



Category: Deus Ex (Video Games), Deus Ex: Human Revolution
Genre: F/M, First fic don't hurt me, How is there not one of these in the fandom yet?, Office Sex, One Shot, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-08-27 11:10:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8399398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sudo_InkR4VEN/pseuds/sudo_InkR4VEN
Summary: Ever since the riots started getting out of hand, you've been forced to take long hours to create a round-the-clock security perimeter per Jensen’s orders. You can't blame him for the paranoia, but it's starting to get to you, even if your flashbacks from the attack on Sarif mean you don't get much sleep anyways.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Since there aren't any of these around, I thought I'd throw one together. This is a one shot and also my first real attempt at fanfic and smut! So, please forgive me. I wanted to initially try to make a gender-neutral reader, but I’m not quite good enough of a writer to pull that off just yet. If this gets a good reception, I might try it for my next fic.
> 
> Concrit is appreciated. There was no beta for this because I’m too embarrassed to show any of my friends smut. Let me know if you want to beta my stuff.
> 
> This is set during Human Revolution, before heading off to Hengsha for a second time. I don’t own the characters or game, etc etc.

Your back aches despite the wall you're leaning against. You shift again, moving the weight of your assault rifle from one hand to the other. It's 0100, and your next shift relief isn't due for a while.

Ever since the riots started getting out of hand, you've been forced to take long hours to create a round-the-clock security perimeter per Jensen’s orders. You can't blame him for the paranoia, but it's starting to get to you, even if your flashbacks from the attack on Sarif mean you don't get much sleep anyways.

A girl needs a break sometimes.

Staring at a wall close to you, and then a wall further away wasn't really your idea of fun. But orders were orders, and it paid the bills. You flex your jet black hands to try and occupy yourself (top of the line, courtesy of Sarif).

Glancing around, you notice that there seems to be a lull in the action outside judging by the quieter noises echoing from the lobby. You think you hear a VTOL landing on the company helipad. But even with the riots at a duller roar, it's hard to know for sure.

Standing up straighter, you wait for people to pass by. You feel as if someone important has arrived, despite the hour. Pritchard as head of Cyber Security especially keeps strange shifts, and if you didn't follow him leaving the building with your own eyes you'd think he lived here. But if the VTOL was being used... It was either Sarif himself, or your boss Jensen.

Jensen also keeps strange hours, but since you both worked security, there was a mutual understanding of how and why his hours follow the way they did. You remember him on that fateful day in Mexicantown, when he quit the force and you had followed suit a few months after (but not by choice). You were on the scene for bomb disposal (just in case), but your skills never got used that day….

"What's on your mind, y/n?"

You jump (and you hope he didn’t notice, but of course he did, he’s fucking _Jensen_ ), brought back to the present. Out of instinct you find yourself snapping to attention.

"Boss, the perimeter is secure. We haven't had any disturbances inside the building."

Your eyes are locked in a middle distance, a military habit that can't seem to die. You hear Jensen’s chuckle rumble through the air like distant thunder.

"I was asking what you're thinking, not a status report. Though I'm glad you're keeping tabs, y/n".

You finally unlock your eyes and _actually_ look at your boss. He seems rather relaxed, considering the chaos outside. His ever present shades are hiding his eyes, but you have an idea that there may have been a mischievous twinkle behind them. His face was its normal blank slate, but he’s the type of guy who tended to show his mood through body language before his face would give anything away. One arm was loose by his side, the other on his cocked hip.

Interesting. Very interesting.

You don't know exactly what's going on, or why he's addressing you specifically, but you try to make small talk. Gotta keep the boss happy.

"I was just thinking about how it got a bit quieter for a second... Then you arrived."

Your hand shoots up to your mouth in embarrassment as you realize a split second later how that statement could've been taken. Jensen chuckles wryly. Your quip was probably truer than you realized, from what you knew of what your boss had been up to lately. It seems he agrees with you considering his reaction.

"Thanks a lot, y/n." He's being sarcastic but you can tell he's being more playful than serious. The slight smirk vanishes from his face and he’s back into Boss mode again.  
"I have something I'd like to discuss with you though. Meet me in my office?"

You pause, moving your hand down slightly but not sure how soon you should follow after him.

Jensen calls behind him to you to follow, gesturing with his own metallic arm.

"And don't worry, I got the rest of your shift taken care of."

You arch your eyebrow and quickly file behind him. Either you're getting a reprimand or a huge raise (please be a raise).

\-------

The office door clicks shut behind you as Jensen goes behind his desk. The last time you were hear was when you had your interview. Not much has changed - piles of unfiled reports, papers and ebooks scattered everywhere. A copy of {aug} peaking out from under a printout of Detroit’s most wanted sits just out of sight in front of his computer.

You look up again, and your breath catches in your throat as you stare at the back of Jensen. Your boss isn't doing anything extraordinary - in fact, he's appeared to have lost something and is rummaging around - but the fact that he's only in his combat vest instead of his usual trench coat means you can see his arms turning and moving in the light. It refracts under the carbon fiber coating.

God, you would give anything to have those wrapped around you.

Jensen has no idea that you've had it _bad_ for quite some time. Even before the augments. You had kept your distance once you were hired, and especially after that whole fiasco with Megan. You'd tried to get up the courage to talk to him after they broke up, but there had never been a good time... Especially with his understandably prickly mood after getting his body turned inside out and stuffed with so many augs, some people (mostly the older staff) referred to him as Robocop. Behind his back of course.

_'Maybe now is my chance.'_

The security chief gives a grunt of satisfaction as he finds what he's been looking for. You have a hard time not imagining in what other circumstances he might make a sound like that. Your ears burn, but you manage to keep a straight face.

"y/n, I understand you're due for a performance evaluation…?“

Adam turns around and meets your eyes, or as much as one can do so when one is wearing sunglasses fused to their skull. A few sheets of paper (on top of everything else) have appeared on the table with a pen.

You nod, unable to say anything. You're wondering where he's going with this - who the hell does a performance evaluation at one in the morning? Just because you both had unusual hours didn’t mean he had to do it at this ungodly hour. But, as they say,

_‘That’s above my paygrade to worry about’_

A sound of two glasses hitting the table draws your attention from his face to what he's been looking for. Two crystal tumblers, along with a bottle of whiskey are now sitting on the desk.

"Breaking out the whiskey so soon, boss? Am I getting a promotion?“ You laugh nervously. You're wondering why the hell he's looking at you like you're... Important? You're finding it difficult to place his expression. His arms brace the desk and his face then shifts into a more serious look that you recognize.

"I'm leaving for Hengsha soon. Might not be back, we’re not too sure what to expect. I've asked Sarif to consider you as the next chief of security, in the worst case scenario. So, consider this drink on the house."

He pours two fingers of the whiskey for you, and almost fills the entire damn glass for himself.

He's staring at you, letting you drink first, then seems to change his mind. Jensen's holding the tumbler up to you as a toast. The security chief doesn’t even realize that he’d raised his glass to you, but once he raises it he knows he just committed to whatever this impulse lead him to. You're not sure if should be worried or grateful about this development, but you're flattered by the trust he's put into you. It's obvious he cares about you and your position in the company. If he didn't, he wouldn't have sat you down in his office to talk about something so somber.

Oh, right, his glass is hanging in the air. You need to do _something_ before it gets awkward.

"To planning for the worst and hoping for the best," You say as a toast, trying to break the new tension in the room with a smile. You see a fleeting twitch of his lips with some relief on your part, and you clink glasses over his messy paper-filled desk.

“And to your health. Dealing with Pritchard’s not going to be easy.” The security chief is looking like he’s about to knock back the entire glass in one go, but remembers that he has company and starts to sip at it instead.

“You’re going to be a hell of a person to try and follow in your footsteps, Jensen.”

“Hey, I’m still here,” He says in the driest voice possible. You know he’s joking only because you knew him a little back on SWAT, and his arguments with Pritchard (hard to miss, with them yelling down the hall so much) were often filled with the same sort of barbs. It’s hard not to feel a bit of warmth, knowing that Jensen considers you worthy of talking shit to.

The two of you start to trade stories about your augs, and as you get further into your drinks, about the police force and his former SWAT buddies.

While you didn't work directly together before Sarif, you'd had enough contact with each other to know who's who. The DMPD was big, but the way gossip traveled you'd think it was a small town precinct. Plus, well, Jensen had had a good reputation until the whole Mexicotown incident.

You had been part of the EOD Unit, which usually had to clear buildings, in some cases before SWAT could enter. You recall sleepless nights, being woken up at the crack of dawn or the middle of the night to clear an area full of sensitive ordinance. Strapping on the heavy bomb suit was second nature, giving you that heady sense of purpose and finality, knowing that each day could be your last. Your steady hands had been famous in your little unit, until one shitty day one of them had blown up in your face. You were lucky not to lose your life. Instead, you were left with no arms, a few facial scars, and a nice story.

A good severance package meant you had enough for basic augments given the nature of your job, but they had certainly not been enough for the sleek custom hardware that now graced your frame. Sarif had head-hunted you after you injury and offered to give you the best augs on the market in exchange for your services. Why they needed an EOD tech, you didn’t know, but you suspected that the increase of terrorist attacks and Sarif’s own paranoia were getting the best of him. Still, it would’ve been stupid to say no. And now you had the steadiest hands possible, with built-in chemical and bio agent trackers so you knew exactly what you were touching and when it had come into contact with you.

An advanced suite of sensors meant that your servos were closer to normal human strength (they had to make room for the chips _somewhere_ ), but with the ability to turn your sensitivity up and down on the fly, as well as detecting things out of the normal human sensory spectrum, you really didn’t mind. EOD was delicate work anyways.

The thought that you might've gotten your arms as a gift from Sarif only so Adam could get an even better tuned product makes you reach for your glass and take a large swig, draining the remainder. It burns your throat and you sputter, earning a look and a smirk from your boss.

“You might do good work, but your drinking skills need some improvement.”

“J-Jensen!” You were trying for ‘indignant’ but it comes across as ‘flustered’. You take another sip to cool off and maybe to also hide your red face behind your hand.

\---

"I can override your Sentinel aug," you blurt out. Both of you are pretty buzzed at this point (ok, _drunk_ ), even with Adam drinking double the amount to get to your level with his Sentinel RX system. Adam moving out from behind the desk and taking the seat next to you as the evening progresses makes you feel bolder, more confident. Your legs are up on his desk, a brazen challenge of his space but he’s seemingly only grown more and more amused by your antics.

"Really? How?"

His voice is rougher, more quiet now that he's had a few drinks. A smile is tugging at his lips. He doesn't seem to think you're serious about it, looking at you over the edge of his glass.

"A coupla guys back on the force had’em. You can do it…Right... Here..."

You're moving your hand up to his temple to point to the port you can modify it from, but your decreased coordination from the booze (you had both moved on to a twelve pack of beer you kept hidden in your office after downing the entire bottle of whiskey) means you end up caressing the side of his face instead.

You freeze, staring at him and not wanting to break the moment. Well, and you really just don’t know what to do at this point. It’s not like there’s fraternization regs stopping you, but...

He's completely still for a moment, the way someone with near full-body augs can get, then leans into your hand. You realize his shades have been retracted (after the third beer? Fourth? You can't remember right now) as you stare at the contrast of your hand against his face. His eyes are closed and he exhales slowly.

The skin underneath your palm is warm, and you can almost feel the prickle of his stubble, translating as a vague itchy feeling through your aug’s sensors since you didn’t turn the sensitivity to normal. It made you ache that you couldn’t feel more.

You don't realize you're holding your breath until his eyes blink open and look into yours. It reminds you of a neon sign flickering to life, giving light to a bleak darkness. You're realizing that you might be closer (and more drunk) than appropriate once you start coming closer to his face and counting the number of rings that make up the 'iris' of his eyes. They flick down to your lips. You look down at his. Like magnets, you seem to accelerate exponentially towards each other.

You didn't think he'd taste like this.

It was hesitant at first, but as soon as you licked his lips to try and plunder his mouth, the barriers of decency broke down. With a mutual groan he's pushing his tongue into your mouth, his body into yours up from your chairs and against the desk.

The harsh scrape of a chair, papers rustling and the clink of a few bottles follow. He tastes like whiskey, beer, and something that makes you think of green tea, something uniquely him.  Quickly, you realize that your boss probably hasn't gotten laid in at least a year, and the idea of you being the outlet for that much pent up frustration sends a toe curling shiver through your frame. Jensen seems to notice, and comes up for air after being lost to your lips until either of you couldn't breathe.

"You good?”

His voice is even rougher than before. You could probably get off on the sound of his voice alone right now, if you wanted to. But you want so much more.

"Yes," You breathe, sliding a thigh up to wrap around his waist. "Tell me what you're going to do to me."

You're breathing into his ear, swept into the currents of lust and his sleek black arms. Your hips buck involuntarily as he presses back into you, his erection growing more evident with each second. Hands grab your hips and trail down to your ass, and he lifts you effortlessly to a file cabinet that puts you at the perfect height to get fucked at.

He stands right in front of you, nudging your hips with his own and positioning you so he can start working on your pants. His eyes are burning into your skin, hands on you instantly. One trails through your hair and down to your cheek, barely resting under your chin. You stare into each other’s eyes.

"I'd rather show you," He murmurs and you shiver again.

A pitch-black hand is dipping underneath your fatigues, teasing the edge of the waistband. He strokes the sensitive skin, listening for each of your reactions and rewarding you with more touches – he’s between your pants and underwear now, his hand questing even lower to gently stroke your lower lips through now-wet panties. The gasps and moans you’re producing are quite possibly loud enough to be heard outside the office.

“Please-“

He's trailing kisses down your neck now, and you are desperately grasping at him, tugging on his combat vest with one hand and feeling his hair with the other. Your augmented limbs are the most sensitive ever developed and you’re using them to feel the gel in his hair as it fights the force of your hand pulling on it. With your head listing to the side to give him more access, he pounces for the opening to suck and bite harder on your neck, pulling on the hair towards the nape of your neck to ensure your compliance. Another noises escapes you but you barely recognize it as yourself.

As he was ravaging your neck, his clever hands stripped off your vest and shirt, his mouth never leaving your skin except to lift the offending Kevlar vest off of you. The BDU top is easily ripped off, and the T-shirt doesn’t survive first contact. You’re pretty sure your sanity isn’t going to survive contact with his hands either, considering how they’re simply touching every inch of you and leaving fire in their wake.

With surprising swiftness, his hand which has been so delicately handling your panties has opened the fly of your combat pants and started to pull them downwards. You gasp as the metal filing cabinet meets your buttocks, and the rapidly disappearing pants allow Adam access to your dripping wet inner core. His lips are sweeping patterns down from your neck to your breasts, quickly followed with the brush of his whiskey-scented beard. You might be drunk, but now you’re almost feeling high with Adam _fucking_ Jensen kissing and sucking on your breasts, your nipples.

In his office. On top of his filing cabinet. _Fuck._

“I want to feel you.” Adam’s hands have shifted further, really getting a firm grip on your bare ass. You’re going to have hand-shaped bruises in the morning.

“Fuck, Adam, holy shi-“

A wail interrupts your own words as his head is now in between your thighs, lapping at your outer lips and teasing you right around your clit. You’re not even able to remember how he got there, and you couldn’t care less about this because you’re so turned on you almost feel like you’re emitting some sort of golden glow.

It starts with an almost accidental brush of his tongue directly on your clit, this teasing thing of his. He’s eating you out with much more enthusiasm than you think you deserve, but he doesn’t seem to give a shit about that, because now he’s starting to lick and suck your clit directly, then going in circles around it. He’s doing it repeatedly, getting you close to the edge of an explosive orgasm, then backing off just enough to leave you wanting more. You’re whining with frustration, hand smacking the edge of the cabinet with enough force to leave a dent.

Thank God your thighs aren’t augmented, because you’re pretty sure you would’ve crushed his head between them by now with the amount of teasing he’s giving you and how much you want him to _just make you cum already_. His lips leaving your pussy, you register that he’s speaking to you through the haze of your lust.

“Come for me…” His beard is rubbing your hyper sensitive clit as he speaks. You’re a hair’s breadth away, daring to take one shallow breath.

“ _Now._ ”

His lips slide against your pussy, his tongue licking your clit with an electric graze of his teeth, sending you careening over the precipice. It’s an out-of-body experience except all you can see and feel and hear is pure pleasure, and somewhere in the distance is a keening noise as if a flash bang went off.

Adam doesn’t even have the decency to let you come down from the mind-shattering orgasm before he’s back up to your lips, kissing and pressing against you, and you recognize the taste of yourself on him. Somehow, it just makes him taste even better.

Adam slows down his kisses, dancing with your mouth slowly as you take shaky breaths inbetween to recover. He leans back, eyes dark and hooded with his teeth glinting in the low yellow light, lips pulled into a smile that could devour a lion.

You’ve never seen him look so indescribably _human_ before.

“My turn.”

Before you could take a breath (that look of his had taken it) you realize that his cock is now out of his pants, bunched down around his synthetic thighs. A wild patch of hair frames it, a charcoal hand stroking it solely for your pleasure, because you’re absolutely sure that he can’t be any harder than he is right now. He’s average in length, but thick. All you can think is that he looks mouth-watering.

Your own Sarif-issued hands scramble to rip off his combat vest, already quite askew and partly open from your earlier exploration. His left hand reaches up to undo the left portion of his vest and your hand mirrors his actions onto the right side.

Adam’s shrugged it off and now you can see the beautiful lines of his shoulders, how they connect to his torso in an elegant display of hardware meeting flesh, silver ports catching the light as he starts to lean back towards you. It’s hard _not_ to touch his chest, taking a moment to explore the hardware and compare to your own. Similar, but not the same. He hardly has any scarring despite the heavy amounts of augmentation he has, which just emphasizes how much they seem to be truly a part of him.

Adam seems to be appreciating your augs as well. You have more scarring, considering the nature of your past injuries. He traces over each one with a whisper-light touch, as if he is tracing the lines of a well-read book. Your heart thumps in your chest as you watch his eyes follow his fingertips, enough weight behind the gaze that you’re sure he’s memorizing them. As he pulls you against his body Adam’s dick reminds you of the payback he promised (fuck _yes_ ), rubbing against your pussy as he slides his hands to remove the bra off of you.

It joins the floor with his tactical vest in a modest pile.

A sharp inhale catches his attention, and he meets your eyes again with a wordless question. You barely nod, pulling his hips snugly against yours with your legs. His hands grab your hips to slide you onto his dick.

Jensen wasn’t slow, not after hearing the delicious noises you made when he made you come.

The first thrust was quick but jerky, both of you moaning in concert as your bodies moved together. You’re too far gone to care about technique; just the fact that you’re being fucked by Adam Jensen is enough of a turnon in and of itself.

Clawing his back is the only way you seem to be able to respond at this point, rocking your hips against him urgently in your quest for _more_. Jensen responds in kind, using his arms to effortlessly lift you up and letting gravity slam you back onto his cock.

“Adam,” you pant in a low voice that sounds barely like your own.

“y/n.” He groans right back.

He tips you onto your back, laying you down on the filing cabinet to better fuck you. Adam lets out a wordless growl right into your ear, biting your earlobe and savagely thrusting into you, slow and methodical and hitting a spot inside you that no-one seemed _capable_ enough to do before.

You’re shaking from his efforts, not just from the force of his trusts but because it just feels so damn _good_ that you can’t stop. Adam’s incredibly close to losing himself to your mutual pleasure, but slows his thrusts even more, finally pulling out slow enough that you can’t help but feel every inch on its way out. His cock makes an obscene noise as he pulls out of you completely. You can’t help but make a noise that sounds suspiciously like a whine (you don’t _whine_ , damnit).

An obsidian arm hooks under your knee and pulls it towards your chest, Adam once again pulling close to capture your lips which had been vacant for far too long. The kiss is somewhere between violent and tender, as if you both are water at a rolling boil. Teeth bump into each other as you desperately sample his mouth. His hips roll against yours, rutting his cock between the lips of your pussy, and as he does you let out a long, unbroken moan.

You don’t even care if David Sarif himself heard you.

He thrusts back in as if he meant to take you by surprise, sliding back against you as if he hadn’t left at all. The arch of your back could’ve been used to support the Sistine Chapel, with Adam as your keystone.

The new position lets him thrust even deeper, rubbing inside all of the right places, sending you closer to cumming _again_. You spasm as Adam starts to thrust harder and faster, losing his normal precision in favor of trying to race you to the finish. Teeth clenched, nostrils flared, he thrusts a final time, crying out a low growl before biting your neck _hard_ , and you flinch in surprise, shifting his dick _just so,_ just enough to slide you over the edge-

“ _ADAM!_ ”

(Someone DEFINITELY heard that one)

You’re seeing white, fuzzing in like static as you feel your second orgasm pulse through you. The deepest moan you’ve ever heard vibrates through your chest and into the rest of your body, maybe even your soul. You feel cum pumping from his cock and you let yourself whimper in satisfaction, going limp as he starts to finish his own orgasm. A moment passes, a few seconds or years, and you can’t help but feel a brief flair of lust? Longing? As he pulls out his softening dick.

His arms are still braced on either side of you but are barely holding his weight, instead letting gravity keep your bodies nestled together as he pants in your ear. A long moment of the two of you just breathing, first heavily, then slower, until you are almost in sync, in-out, in-out. It’s pretty cool, maybe even a little weird but you _really_ don’t care. Your hands move in time with your breath over his back, soothing to feel someone with arm augments like yourself and be able to trace over the underlying structure. A nuzzling of beard and lazy lips on your neck are received in response.

After your breather (which felt a lot more _intimate_ than you expected), he leans back slowly and separates himself from you, becoming upright while still having his arms around you and wait, is he carrying you now? Oh shit!

He walks over to a small couch that you hadn’t noticed, mostly because you were too distracted and also because your head is nestled into his _very_ cuddly chest. He manages to sit down with you onto the couch without incident, arms full of sleepy EOD specialist (you, _you of all people_ ).

You’re curled up in Adam’s arms, and he takes the liberty of smoking a cigarette (it’s his office after all), one hair playing with your hair absentmindedly. You look up at his face and grin.

“So, do I pass the performance review?”

Adam chokes, almost swallowing the cigarette, and then rumbles a hearty, genuine laugh.

“Aced it.”


End file.
